


All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

by LuxInvictus



Series: Supernatural Advent Calendar Challenge 2017 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depowered Lucifer, Fluff, Gen, I just want him to be happy okay, Jack is a precious little cinnamon roll, Light Angst, Lucifer deserves love, Lucifer in the Bunker, Season 13 AU, and loved, brief strong language, father son bond, proud papa Lucifer, the fluff kills most of it though tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxInvictus/pseuds/LuxInvictus
Summary: Lucifer gets the best Christmas present a father could ask for.





	All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

-.-.-.-.-

Lucifer paces around the living room of the bunker, wringing his hands and glancing repeatedly at the clock on the wall. Only two minutes have passed since he last looked? That can’t be right. A cold hand squeezes his chest, making it hard to breathe. Closing his eyes to stay calm, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a series of short bursts.

“Dude. Chill already,” Dean grouses from where he’s sprawled on the couch, hands tucked behind his head, booted feet propped on one of the arms. “They’ll get here when they get here.”

Clenching his jaw, Lucifer throws the prone hunter a dark look and snaps his fingers. Sadly, Dean doesn’t dissolve into a cloud of hot ash. Not that Lucifer was seriously expecting it to work — he’s pretty much given up on the hope of regenerating his lost grace — but he can’t help but try. Just in case.

“Yeah, fuck you too, bitch.” Dean lazily flips him off and drapes his arm over his face. Huffing, Lucifer spins on his heel and starts pacing again.

All the stupid decorations don’t help his mood. Fat smiling Santa Clauses and red-nosed reindeer and glittery white snowflakes, oh my. All the happy makes him want to hurl. Why humans feel the need to stuff their houses full of kitschy knickknacks for holidays, he’ll never understand. Lights from the tree Sam and Castiel put up this morning wink and twinkle at him as he paces by. Feeling mocked, he’s half tempted to kick the thing over. But that won’t make a good first impression, so he keeps his feet to himself.

Another minute ticks by, and still nothing. Chewing his thumbnail, Lucifer stares off in the direction of the war room. What if the car broke down? What if they’re stuck in snow? What if something happened and they —

No. He shakes the idea out of his head even as his stomach churns and twists into knots. They’re fine. Everything’s fine. They’re just not here yet. He glances at the clock again.

“They’re fifteen minutes late,” he blurts out, hating how thin and wobbly his voice is.

Dean shifts on the sofa but otherwise doesn’t move. “I’m gonna give you ten seconds to plant your evil ass in a chair before I do it for you.”

Lucifer wishes that wasn’t actually a viable threat. Gone are the days when the Winchesters stared at him in terror, flinching at the very sound of his name. Yep, those were the good ol’ days. Now they just roll their eyes at him or threaten to kick his ass when he mouths off or lock him in the dungeon.

But he’s still the Devil, damn it, so he counts to nine before dropping into the armchair next to the couch. 

His ass barely dents the cushion when the front door opens, sound ringing through the bunker like a gong.

“Hey guys, we’re back,” Sam calls.

Lucifer is out of his chair and on his feet again in a flash, heart hammering his chest. They’re here. Oh my Dad, they’re finally here. Biting his lip, he adjusts his jacket and then clasps his hands behind his back, hoping he looks decently presentable.

“About time,” Dean calls back as he rolls into a sitting position and stretches his hands over his head. “Old Scratch here is about to have a cow.” He shoots a cocky grin up at Lucifer as he unfolds himself from the sofa and smooths the wrinkles from his flannel shirts.

Lucifer really wishes his smite button wasn’t broken. But the sass button still works. Oh, how it still works. Glaring, he sucks in a breath to sass the hunter with the sassiest sass he’s ever been sassed with when a small, soft voice interrupts.

“Who is this?”

A young man with floppy brown hair steps forward, staring up at Lucifer with pale blue eyes. He’s dressed in a white tee-shirt, blue jeans, and a brown jacket with squiggly designs on the chest and shoulders. 

Lucifer’s mouth goes dry and he’s suddenly so dizzy he can barely stand. It’s him. It’s really him. Even with most of his grace gone AWOL, he can sense the power surging from the young man like lightning crackling through the sky. From his son. 

Jack.

The backs of his eyes burn, but he’ll take a swan dive back into the Cage before he lets Sam and Dean Winchester see the Devil cry. Blinking rapidly, he reaches a shaky hand out toward his son. 

Jack pulls back, staring up questioningly at Castiel and Sam, who flank him on either side. 

Sam clears his throat. “Uh, Jack, this is your…this your dad. Your real dad. Lucifer.”

Lucifer does his best to smile and gives Jack a little wave.

Jack’s mouth goes slack and his eyes widen. “This is my father?” He takes another step back, as though trying to use Sam and Castiel as shields.

Lucifer’s heart plummets into his stomach, which churns and roils like the ocean. Swallowing with difficulty, he lets his hand fall to his side as a bitter taste coats his tongue. Of course his son hates him, fears him; he’s been raised by Team Free Will (TM) for most of his short life. And all this talk of Christmas and family and healing old wounds is obviously just a way for them to rub it in his face. Butter him up, get his hopes all nice and big, and then crush them under their lumberjack-issue boots. He should have known better. Gritting his teeth, he shoves his hands into his pants pockets and clenches them into fists.

Castiel puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder and leans down to whisper something into his ear. If that’s not worse than an angel blade through the heart, Lucifer doesn’t know what is. Glancing over at Dean, he finds the eldest hunter’s face twisted in a satisfied little smirk. Lucifer should want to smite that smirk right off Dean’s face. He wants to want it. But all he really wants is to run out the door, out of this damn bunker, and throw himself off the nearest tall building on the off-chance he’s lost enough grace that he can die.

He must have curled in on himself, bowed his head or something, because he doesn’t even notice Jack is standing right in front of him until a warm hand touches his face. Flinching, Lucifer jerks his head back. Jack startles too and glances back over his shoulder at Castiel, who gives him an encouraging look. Openly gaping, Lucifer runs a hand through his hair. Is this really happening?

Before he can tuck his hand back in his pocket, Jack grabs it and, turning it over, traces a thumb along the lines on Lucifer’s palm. Lucifer doesn’t dare breathe. Once he’s done examining Lucifer’s hand, Jack lets it go and looks Lucifer up and down, a slow smile building on his face.

“You’re not evil,” he announces with the happiest grin Lucifer’s ever seen.

Lucifer feels like someone sucker punched him in the gut. His mouth falls open and all the breath whooshes out of his body. If the other three gasps in the room are anything to go by, Team Free Will wasn’t expecting that either. Jack is blissfully oblivious to the shock and disbelief swirling around him, gazing up at Lucifer with a smile bright enough to herald the dawn.

Predictably, it’s Dean who ruins the most beautiful moment of Lucifer’s eons-long life. 

“Wait, wait wait,” he says, striding forward and reaching for Jack like he means to snatch him away from Lucifer. “What do you mean he’s not evil, Jack? He’s the fu— the friggin’ Devil. He’s the definition of evil.”

Neatly sidestepping Dean’s attempt to grab him, Jack is shaking his head even before Dean is done spluttering. “No. He’s an angel, just like me.” He crinkles his nose. “Well, half of me.” Then he smiles again. “Besides, he’s dressed just like me.”

Lucifer’s not sure what his clothes have to do with not being evil, but he’ll take it. Anyway, it reminds him of something.

Smiling down at his son, he clears his throat and plunges his hand into his jacket pocket. “I, uh, have something for you,” he says. “I heard you like nougat—” he deliberately refuses to give the Winchesters any kind of credit for that knowledge “—so, uh, I got you some.”

Jack’s face splits into an impossibly wide grin. “I love nougat!” he says, grabbing one of the candies from Lucifer’s hand, unwrapping it, and cramming it in his mouth. “Thank you, father!” he adds, words garbled through the sticky treat.

And then, before Lucifer realizes what’s happening, Jack throws himself into Lucifer’s arms and hugs him so hard he squeaks. 

A wave of warmth washes over Lucifer, and he’s so lightheaded he can barely stand. He’s sure this is just a dream. Any time now he’ll wake up, still a captive in Asmodeus’s prison with no hope of escape and nothing but another lifetime of torture to look forward to. Good things like this don’t happen to him; they just don’t. And if they do, they don’t last.

“Father? Is…is something wrong?” Jack’s question knocks him out of his reverie. Shaking away the unwanted thoughts, Lucifer focuses all his attention on his son, the brightest, most precious being in the universe, and pulls him close. 

“No. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just fine.”

And though Asmodeus is still out there, no doubt plotting revenge, and Bizzaro Michael is assuredly plotting his way into their world, in that moment, Lucifer has no doubt that everything is, indeed, just fine.

-.-.-.-.-

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are fabulous! :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @this-darkness-light for Supernatural stuff and tons of Mark Pellegrino Spam.


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